


the end of jupiter

by oculata



Series: the beginning of forever [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Afterglow, Emotional Sex, M/M, Mutual I Love You, Post-Prison, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 09:34:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21408031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oculata/pseuds/oculata
Summary: Ian didn't know it was possible to fall in love with someone more than once.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: the beginning of forever [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524932
Comments: 18
Kudos: 355





	the end of jupiter

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/_clennam)

It was all rather overwhelming for Ian. He was laid under Mickey, hands resting limply on his splayed thighs, staring up at him. He loved that image, could watch it all day—one of Mickey bouncing on him, that filthy roll of his hips as he rose up and sunk back down on Ian’s cock, his head tilted back up at the ceiling, his hands pressing hard into Ian’s chest for stability. Ian could just see Mickey’s lips peering out from above his chin, and he could imagine his face—those closed eyes and that pink sheen that dusted his skin as he rolled in ecstasy.

Even though Ian couldn’t see Mickey’s face, he could hear him—he could hear his rough, ragged breath, as if Mickey couldn’t get the air into his lungs deep enough. He could hear and by extension picture how Mickey’s breath became momentarily more stifled and desperate when he bit down on his bottom lip, and it set off a flutter in Ian's chest. Ian slid his hands around on Mickey’s skin, up and down the length of his thighs, and angled his hips up a little more in a way that was straining on his core but would be easier for Mickey.

Mickey whimpered and slowed down as he felt the angle alter. He froze on Ian’s cock as he felt Ian stretch him open in a new way, his nails digging into the tight skin of Ian’s chest. Mickey’s breath stuttered, and his head finally tilted forward. He opened his eyes halfway, blinking slowly a few times as he tried to ground himself in the situation, tracing his gaze along Ian’s chest, where his nails had dug parallel red stripes across it, and then up to Ian’s face.

Ian couldn’t begin to imagine what he looked like as Mickey studied his face from up above. He knew what he saw, though, and Mickey looked ethereal—his pale skin seeming to glow in the dim light; the almost unnoticeable freckles that were stippled on his cheeks and nose burning to life under his flush; the way his breath made his body gently rise and then settle again. It was overwhelming for him, watching Mickey in his raw glory like that, uninhibited yet powerful and striking. It flooded Ian’s senses to an immeasurable degree, so much that he let out an involuntary moan as he just stared up at Mickey.

Mickey giggled and sank back down onto Ian’s cock until he was sitting flush against Ian’s pelvis. The movement pulled the moan out of Ian some more; his voice pitched and his mouth dropped wide open as his eyes darted to the closing gap between his body and Mickey’s. His attention was returned to Mickey’s face when he felt a hand move off of his chest and gently cup his jaw and cheek. He looked over and saw Mickey leaning over him, lowering his torso until the heated skins of their chests were touching, a moan in his throat as Ian’s cock pulled at him again in a different way. Mickey’s face hovered over Ian’s, and when he began to rub his thumb over Ian’s cheek, Ian felt a stuttered breath escape from his lips.

“You look good,” Mickey whispered into the hot space between them, the air from his words ghosting over Ian’s mouth.

Ian found himself speechless as he searched Mickey’s face. His hands glided up from Mickey’s thighs and up onto the soft skin on his hips, reflecting on how pure it felt under his fingertips. He doubted many people had laid their hands on Mickey’s bare hips, felt how the skin contoured under the curves of their fingertips as they pressed in. He could have sunk his nails into Mickey until he bruised, then flip him over and pound into him until Mickey’s voice was but an incoherent jumble of sounds and half finished syllables, but as Ian slid his arms around some more—onto the small of Mickey’s back before returning onto his hips—he felt himself be absorbed by the intimacy and innocence that radiated back and forth between them. Ian could feel his lip trembling as he drank in the moment and Mickey’s existence—the fact that they were together in the way they had wanted to be for as long as they could remember.

“You okay?” Mickey asked quietly, moving his hand so he could thumb at the corner of Ian’s mouth.

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Mickey responded immediately, a smile pushing his cheeks up to obscure his eyes a bit as he looked down from Ian’s face and onto his collarbone, more from habit as opposed to embarrassment.

“Hey,” Ian said, one hand racing up from Mickey’s hip and onto his chin, tugging his head so he was looking Ian in the eyes again. “I mean it—I really love you.”

Ian dragged his thumb up Mickey’s chin and pressed down Mickey’s bottom lip so he could look into Mickey’s mouth.

“Really do, Mick,” Ian murmured.

He didn’t catch the look in Mickey’s eyes before he dipped down and pressed a tender kiss onto Ian’s lips. Ian moved his hand to cup Mickey’s jaw, and Mickey shifted his hand, too, wrapping it around the side of Ian’s neck as he resumed the roll of his hips, moaning into Ian’s mouth as he felt Ian slide in and out of him again.

* * *

Mickey was laid on his side, and his head was nuzzled in Ian’s neck. He was resting on the towel that Ian had scurried to get him as soon as they had finished, dragging his fingers and knuckles along the concaves and convexes of Ian’s chest, noting to be especially careful in the places where he had scratched earlier. His other arm was laid along Ian’s side, and his fingers were interlaced with Ian’s. 

Ian’s cheek was pressed in Mickey’s silky hair, and the hand that held Mickey’s was dragging a lazy thumb along the side of Mickey’s forefinger. He wasn’t even aware that he was doing it—touching Mickey, gently stroking his skin as they enjoyed each other’s company, had become second nature to him.

When Mickey's fingers dipped too low and brushed against the upper portion of Ian’s stomach, Ian would laugh. Mickey would giggle because Ian was laughing, and then he would trace his fingertips back up to Ian’s chest, resuming the little patterns and sections of galaxies he was mindlessly creating.

Eventually, Ian’s stomach echoed a low grumble. “Do you want to go out to eat?”

Mickey rolled his lips into his mouth and let out a thoughtful _”mmm”_ as he mulled over the suggestion.

“‘M really tired,” he replied.

“I could order something in for us,” Ian suggested.

“Sounds nice, just hope the delivery guy doesn’t almost get shot again,” Mickey chuckled.

Ian rolled his eyes.

“Bet your wallet’s still fuckin’ crying from that tip you had to give ‘em,” Mickey tacked on, laying his hand flat on Ian’s chest.

Ian scoffed, but his feigned annoyance didn’t land at all because he almost immediately broke out into a chuckle. He rose from the bed and looked back at Mickey, who was gazing at him with half-hooded lips and a sleepy, content smile on his face, his hair a little disheveled and his body tinted a rosy shade.

Ian grinned back and went about searching the room for his phone—he couldn’t remember where he had put the damn thing or if he had given it to Mickey at some point, so he went about checking the various drawers, as well as the pants and jackets strewn across the floor. He eventually located it after much shuffling and scouring. He walked back towards the bed, and as he edged closer, the image of a sleeping Mickey entered his view. 

He looked peaceful—his eyes were delicately shut, his slightly swollen lips were parted just the tiniest amount for his exhales, and his hand was folded under his cheek. He was in love with Mickey and the tranquility and beauty that beamed from his being.

Mickey speaking or Mickey sleeping: paradise either way.


End file.
